“That’s right enough,” said M. Muller, who, having finished his dessert, was now sipping coffee into which he had tipped sugar until it was as thick as syrup: “but you were disobliging, my dear young lady, and that was what struck the magistrate; for really it would not have been much trouble to register the new deposit and take charge of Mme. Van den Rosen’s necklace for her.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” the girl replied; “but when there is a rule it seems to me that it ought to be obeyed. My time is up at nine o’clock, and I am forbidden to accept any deposits after nine o’clock: and that’s why I refused that lady’s. I was perfectly right; and I should do the same again, if the same thing happened.”
Henri Verbier was manifestly anxious to conciliate the young cashier. He expressed his approval of her conduct now.
“I quite agree with you, it never does to put interpretations upon orders. It was your duty to close your safe at nine o’clock, and you did close it then, and no one can say anything to you. But, joking apart, what did the magistrate want?”
The girl shrugged her shoulders with a gesture of indifference.
“You see I was right just now: M. Louis is only trying to tease me by saying that the magistrate cross-examined me severely. As a matter of fact I was simply asked what I have just told you, and when I gave all this explanation, no fault at all was found with me.” As she spoke, Mlle. Jeanne folded her napkin carefully, pushed back her chair and shook hands with her two neighbours at table. “Good night,” she said. “I am going up to bed.”
Mlle. Jeanne had hardly left the room before Henri Verbier also rose from the table and prepared to follow her example.
M. Louis gave M. Muller a friendly dig in his comfortable paunch.
“A pound to a penny,” he said, “that friend Verbier means to make up to Mlle. Jeanne. Well, I wish him luck! But that young lady is not very easy to tame!”
“You didn’t succeed,” M. Muller replied unkindly, “but it doesn’t follow that nobody else will!”
M. Louis was not deceived: Henri Verbier evidently did think his neighbour at table a very charming young woman.
Mlle. Jeanne had hardly reached her room on the fifth floor of the hotel, and flung open her window to gaze over the magnificent panorama spread out below her and inhale the still night air, when a gentle tap fell upon the door and, complying with her summons to come in, Henri Verbier entered the room.
“My room is next to yours,” he said, “and as I saw you were standing dreaming at your window I thought perhaps you would condescend to smoke an Egyptian cigarette. I have brought some back from Cairo: it is very mild tobacco—real ladies’ tobacco.”
The girl laughed and took a dainty cigarette from the case that Henri Verbier offered her.
“It’s very kind of you to think of me,” she said. “I don’t make a habit of smoking, but I let myself be tempted sometimes.”
“If I have been kind, you can show your gratitude very easily,” Henri Verbier replied: “by allowing me to stay here a few minutes and smoke a cigarette with you.”
“By all means,” said Mlle. Jeanne. “I love to spend a little time at my window at night, to get the air before going to bed. You will prevent me from getting tired of my own company, and can tell me all about Cairo.”
“I’m afraid I know very little about Cairo,” Henri Verbier replied; “you see I spent almost the whole of my time in the hotel. But as you seem so kind and so friendly disposed I wish you would tell me things.”
“But I am a very ignorant young woman.”
“You are a woman, and that’s enough. Listen: I am a newcomer here, and I am quite aware that my arrival, and my position, will make me some enemies. Now, whom ought I to be on my guard against? Who is there, among the staff, of whom I ought to be careful as doubtful associates? I ask with all the more concern because I will tell you frankly that I had no personal introduction to the Board: I have not got the same chance that you have.”
“How do you know I had any introduction?” the girl enquired.
“Gad, I’m sure of it,” Henri Verbier answered: he was leaning his elbows on the windowsill and gradually drawing closer to the young cashier. “I don’t suppose that an important position like the one you hold, requiring absolute integrity and competence, is given without fullest investigation. Your work is not tiring, but that does not mean it would be entrusted to anybody.”
“You are quite right, M. Verbier: I did have an introduction to the Board: and I had first-rate testimonials too.”
“Have you been in business long? Two years—three years?”
“Yes,” Mlle. Jeanne replied, purposely refraining from being explicit.
“I only asked because I fancy I have seen you before somewhere. I recognise your eyes!” Henri Verbier smiled, and looked meaningly at the girl. “Mlle. Jeanne, on summer nights like this, when you are looking at a lovely view like this, don’t you have a funny sort of feeling?”
“No. What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. But you see, I’m a sentimental chap unfortunately, and I really suffer a lot from always living in lonely isolation, without any affection: there are times when I feel as if love were an absolute necessity.”
The cashier looked at him ironically.
“That’s all foolishness. Love
